When the Cold of Winter Comes
by MornieGalad
Summary: While scouting the remainder of the Anduin River, Legolas and Aragorn are separated from the rest of the fellowship. What will happen if the fellowship must pick yet another leader?
1. In the fog of suspense

1Disclaimer:This is Tolkien's. Duh!  
  
Frodo was ill at ease. It had been, by his count, nearly fourteen hours since Aragorn and Legolas had left the rest of the Fellowship. It had been no later than ten when the companions had been sent to scout the trail and now the moon and stars shone dimly overhead. They were covered in fog, but the lack of light was not what worried the hobbit. The eyes of Legolas could find the company if they were still safe, but the scouting of the path had been foretold to be dangerous. Beside Frodo, Boromir mumbled something in his sleep. It was not Frodo's watch, yet he could not rest. Without Aragorn's sword, Frodo felt very small and helpless. Somehow, this night, he could not forget the words of Boromir at the council, his belief that it was folly to destroy the ring of power. Frodo wanted Gandalf to still be alive, for Aragorn to keep watch as the Ranger always did.  
  
"I see you couldn't sleep either, laddie," Gimli startled Frodo out of h is thoughts. "Well, I may not be a Ranger, but I can swear to you that no goblins will come near the Bearer of the One Ring while Gimli son of Gloin holds his watch."  
  
"It is not for myself that I fear," Frodo said. "I. . . I sincerely hope they will return soon. In my heart I am afraid of what Boromir could do with only a dwarf and a few Hobbits to keep him in check."  
  
I wouldn't be worrying about that till midday tomorrow, laddie. From what I've been told, Rangers are not altogether famous for their promptness"  
  
"Gandalf, were he here, would have said something like k A Ranger is never late or early, but arrives. . . " Frodo faltered. He still grieved the loss of Gandalf and the memory of his smile and laughter, which Frodo remembered from so long ago was unbearable. Gimli quickly changed the subject.  
  
"Don't you worry. I believe that pointy eared elf was born to cheat death."  
  
"Aren't all elves?" Frodo tried to joke. Gimli laughed, but Frodo could do naught but gaze at the stars on the horizon and spoke no more.  
  
A good distance away, Aragorn and Legolas might as well have been as silent as Frodo for what they could hear over the wind. They were only about five feet away from each other, but even Legolas could barely hear or see Aragorn.  
  
"I wonder if one of the Hobbits will be blowing into us soon," he yelled to Aragorn, who smiled at the joke. The Hobbits were probably all snoring by now, he thought.  
  
"Just be sure it isn't Gimli and all him armor. That could kill someone," Aragorn replied. Legolas didn't hear him because of a shiver running down his spine. Danger!  
  
"Dunedan Dad! (Down)" he called over the wind. Even as he did so , Legolas felt a sharp pain in his right side. Aragorn started toward his friend, but Legolas motioned for him to stay down. The first shot had been the goblins' only lucky one and even that was not fatal, for the arrow had not been poisoned. After a time, the whizzing of arrows stopped and the goblins seemed to have moved on. Guessing that Aragorn would make some move to treat him, Legolas quickly rose, although he made an inner grimace as his wound brushed up against the rough bark of an oak tree.  
  
"I'm fine, Aragorn. I will survive until we can return to camp and be off. For now we have two choices."  
  
"Either continue our scouting expedition or return to camp. the moon has not yet set, as near as I can tell, so there is much time before we must return and much left to explore. But first let me bandage your wound."  
  
"Aragorn, it isn't bad. Besides, taking time to tend to every stubbed tow would only find us with much to explore and not much time before our deadline. Let us go on. My heart bids me to hasten from this place." He took off, fighting the wind, with Aragorn following close behind.  
  
"Hullo, Mr. Frodo. Have you seen anymore o' that Gollum creature tonight?" Sam asked, still shaking sleep from his eyes.  
  
"No, Sam, thankfully, we haven't," replied Frodo, still deep in thought.  
  
"What's wrong, Mr. Frodo," Sam asked, noticing the odd tone of worry in his Master's voice.  
  
"What are you doing awake?" Frodo asked, surprised, as if this was the first time he realized Sam was there.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, but I was feeling a little cold, so I just figured I'd bump up the fire." Sam explained. "But why are you still up? Your watch ended hours ago. By now it's nearly Mr. Pippin's time."  
  
"I'm worried, Sam," Frodo admitted reluctantly. He realized Sam would never stop bothering him until he gave some excuse as to why he hadn't been asleep since the day before.  
  
"Strider can take care o' himself. It seems he's been doin' that many a year an' Master Legolas has a keen eye and a fine shot. I don't think you need to be losing sleep over their safety."  
  
"But, what if, it's unlikely, but what if they don't return. Boromir and I don't exactly see eye to eye as far as the fate of the ring is concerned. And Gimli, well, Gimli doesn't seem to have an overwhelming opinion about which road we should take. Oh, Sam, this nasty fog's cooling the whole world down. Heap the fire up." Sam tried to think of words to comfort Frodo, but , as he could not, he went to build up the fire.  
  
"Shall I wake Master Peregrine?" he asked when he saw Gimli returning.  
  
"No, allow him to sleep. I will keep Frodo company in the late watches of the night. Goodnight, Master Gamgee," the dwarf bade him. He went and sat beside Frodo who was staring off into the fog. "Move closer to the fire, lad," he advised. "It will keep you warm and may yet comfort your spirits." Frodo did so only because he could no longer see shadow or light from where he sat. He still refused to speak and the silence that engulfed them was as heavy as the fog bearing down upon them. Boromir's eyes opened 


	2. Unfriendly sounds of night

1Chapter 2

Unfriendly Sounds of Night

"Aragorn, nad no ennas. Nin lasto han." (Something is out there. I hear him.) Legolas yelled to his companion. He was quite certain Gollum could not hear him, for the wind was still too strong. The sting the arrow ached terribly now that the wind had grown all the more forceful. Aragorn may have been right in attempting to bandage it. It was too late now, though. They had to capture Gollum and return to the camp before midday tomorrow and Legolas guessed that Gollum would not be taken without a fight.

"Which way do we take?" Aragorn asked his Elven companion. Legolas concentrated for a moment. "This way," he declared, pointing in the direction of the Anduin River. The two friends fought the wind, Legolas leading. Straining to hear over its fury, Legolas caught the sound of a familiar voice.

"It is close, Precious, Yesss, come to us. Gollum. Gollum. Come, my Precious."

Legolas fit an arrow to his bow while Aragorn drew Anduril. A few steps closer, Legolas guessed, and they would be able to see the horrid creature. His guess was correct. Luckily for them, Gollum had his back turned to the Elf and the Human. He was chomping on a fish out of the river. Legolas had to control himself not to kill, or nearly kill, Gollum, who had escaped the Elves of Mirkwood's grasp. The two companions exchanged a glance, silently counted to three, and attacked. "Ahh!" Gollum screamed, but he realized to late; Legolas and Aragorn were upon him. He fought vigorously, biting Aragorn in the shoulder and kicking Legolas sharply in his right side, causing his previous wound to reopen and resume bleeding. Gollum was nearly spent when Legolas and Aragorn heard a horn. Aragorn, believing it to be the Horn of Gondor, released Gollum and ran in the direction of the sound. Gollum kicked Legolas on his injured side once more, causing the Elf to stumble. Gollum made his escape, but Legolas, pushing the excruciating pain aside, quickly took up the chase.

"Boromir! Boromir! Legolas, have I led us the wrong way?" Aragorn asked, expecting his friend to be close behind him. When he heard no reply but the wind, Aragorn turned around. To his surprise, he saw the Elf nowhere. Aragorn intended to return to his friend, but once again heard the imploring horn. Aragorn ran towards it, figuring Legolas would respond to its sound, as well. He traveled a good distance until he spied something, and it was not what he expected to see at all. He saw the Kingdom of Gondor and himself, King Elessar, overthrowing the Dark Lord. Then the vision changed to destruction, the sundering of the Fellowship and Sauron regaining the Ring. He saw Arwen, his love, dying, her very life being driven from her by Sauron the destroyer. A voice called his name. "Join me, Elessar." He had heard that voice long ago, or so it seemed, on the Mountains of Caradhras. It was the voice of Saruman, the only Istar superior to Gandalf. Aragorn realized now why he had heard Boromir's horn.

"Surely by now it is my watch; why are the two of you still awake?" asked Boromir.

"I could not sleep," Frodo answered honestly.

"Nor could I, and the young Hobbits have profited by that fact, it seems."

"Come, Frodo; you at least must take some rest. You carry a heavy burden. You need sleep. You will be safe while Boromir of Gondor keeps his watch."

Safe. The word stuck in Frodo's mind as he stared into the fog. With Anduril close at hand, Frodo would have felt safe. However, it was not for his own safety that Frodo feared, but for the safety of the Ring. Did Boromir not say, even as they prepared to leave the land of Lorien that it was folly to destroy It? Because of the warning in his heart, Frodo long resisted Boromir's persistence. Weariness eventually took him and he went to lie down by the fire. In the distance of the fog he heard Boromir and Gimli trying to determine what time it was. Their voices comforted him, but sleep would not come to him. The possibilities of the quest were Aragorn and Legolas to not return seemed unthinkable. Never, before the time came as they left Khazad-dum, had Frodo thought about what might become of the Fellowship without Gandalf's guidance. Now he was forced to think of Boromir as the Fellowship's leader. Frodo's mind racked in pain as he saw Boromir using the Ring to defend Gondor against Mordor. Perhaps, as three thousand years ago, they would have the luck of somehow destroying Sauron's immediate power. But, that still left the ultimate test, the destruction of the Ring. Frodo envisioned generations of Fellowships striking out for Mordor, and falling into the same pattern. But what would happen if all the Wizards either died in the quest, as Gandalf had, or fell to darkness like The White Wizard, Saruman? By then the Elves would all be gone from Middle-Earth. Then Sauron would return and wage his final war against the land, and all would be drowned in shadow, for none of the wise remained in that land. Frodo felt his heart break as he saw the end of Lorien and Rivendell. The horror struck him as he saw the Shire consumed by fire and shadow under the power of the Dark Lord. Frodo sat up and tried to erase the reality from his memory as one shakes dreams from the waking world. The vision did not leave Frodo as long as the fog stayed upon the ground. He lay down, at length, again, but did not shut his eyes. He tried hard to remember some tale or song that Bilbo had used to tell him, but only memories of death and pain would surface in his mind. "Gandalf," he called out in thought. If only he had lived. The quest seemed so much easier when the Fellowship had a guide as wise as Elrond. But Gandalf was gone and the other two companions who had left into the dark had not been seen by any friendly eyes.


	3. Temptation and Strength

Chapter 3

Temptation and Strength

'He's fast,' thought Legolas, but even with his would and the wind opposing him, he was gaining on Gollum. Gollum, realizing this, did his best to keep near the river in hopes that a sudden, furious burst of wind would knock the Elf's light body into the river. After a few moments, in a last, desperate, attempt, realizing that Legolas had nearly caught him, Gollum darted into the nearby forest. He scurried up a tree, hoping to either lose the Elf or catch him off guard while he climbed in pursuit.

Legolas saw Gollum climb up the tree and was about to follow him when a shiver ran down his spine, not from the cold or the fog, but a warning of evil things at work in the forest. Then he heard them: ill voices in an ill tongue. Goblins! No, something fiercer than Orcs or Goblins, yet not enough to terrify the Elf.

"There is still time, my friend," came a voice. "Time to join me. The time of the Elves does not have to be over. But the choice is yours, Legolas."

'Saruman's suggestion is tempting,' thought Legolas, 'but he wants the Ring. It must be destroyed.' Legolas was about halfway up the tree when something pierced his back. Taking his chance, Gollum pushed the Elf from the tree, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

"Legolas. Legolas! Where are you?" Aragorn called in frustration. The wind returned his call as if it were mocking his attempt. He had retraced his steps to where he had left Legolas. Since the Elf left no footprints for the Ranger to follow, Aragorn traced Gollum into a nearby forest. The footprints led to the base of a tall tree. Aragorn knelt silently beside it. Looking into its branches, he saw Gollum, or, more precisely, saw a rustling and heard a rasping voice talking to himself. Wondering where Legolas was, Aragorn backed away slightly, resting his hand on the ground. It was damp, but it seemed drier than the fog around him. It was also warmer, as if someone had been lying there. After examining the ground, Aragorn found that patch was depressed further than the ground around it. Upon lifting his hand, the Ranger saw it was brushed with dried blood, apparently from the ground that he had been investigating. Without hesitating, Aragorn bounded up the tree, trying to mentally jump to conclusions. He got as far as convincing himself that Gollum could not single-handedly kill an Elf, much less an Elf with as deadly a shot as Legolas, by the time he reached the top. He took Gollum by surprise. He was muttering something about nasty Hobbitses when he felt a hand on his neck. He whirled around to face Aragorn and Anduril.

"Where is the Elf?" Aragorn demanded.

"Precious does not know!" Gollum cried in fear. "Nasty Elf cannot look after his own life, why should we care?"

"What have you done to him?" Aragorn asked, pressing Anduril closer to the creature's throat.

"Nasty Elf tried to hurt us, Precious. We can only defend ourselves."

"Where is he now?" Aragorn pressed, not relaxing Anduril.

"My Precious does not know! Gollum, Gollum," the creature reiterated. "Creatures took him, Precious."

"Which way did they go?" Aragorn interrogated him further. Gollum pointed west, the direction leading away from the River. Without hesitating, Aragorn grabbed Gollum by the neck and leapt from the tree. From somewhere in his clothing, he pulled a bit of hithlain rope which the Elves of Lorien had given the Fellowship before their departure. He tied it round Gollum's neck, loosely enough so he could breathe, but too tight for even that slinky creature to escape. Realizing he might need both hands, he tied the rope around his wrist. Gollum was squealing something about cruel Humans and nasty Elves, but Aragorn, blinded by fury, at himself for abandoning his comrade, at Gollum for the role he had played, and at Saruman for sticking his white hand into the whole affair, heard none of the cried. He ran headlong into the direction Gollum had indicated. The fog and the wind, and all else, for that matter, seemed to fade. Aragorn was determined not to allow another member of the Fellowship to be killed. Not while he had strength left.


	4. Time Fades

Chapter 4

Time Fades

"Come along, you miserable thing," Aragorn shouted as he ran. That may have been his worst mistake. For his ill fortune, the wind died down at the exact instand to his cry and the ears of the enemy turned towards him. Aragorn felt the pounding of many feet through the ground beneath him. Whatever these creatures were, they were powerful and plentiful. Gollum tried to writhe free and as Aragorn tugged on his leash, and Uruk-hai attacked from behind. While he strove with that one, another cut the rope which bound Gollum to Aragorn. Soon the Ranger was surrounded and within moments he had fallen.

* * *

"Frodo?" came Boromir's voice, startling Frodo out of a troubling, sleepless thought. He sat straight up and did not relax until he was certain the Ring still hung around his neck. "I could see you were troubled, and rightly so. As near as Gimli and I could guess, the sun should have risen by now. I don't think Aragorn would have taken this long to scout out the terrain and return had something ill not befallen them." Boromir seemed to have perceived Frodo's thoughts and his worst fear. "We should begin to prepare oursleves for the possiblilites in case . . . in case they do not return."

"If I were in charge, which I not I'm not, I'd go chasing after that pointy-eared Elf prince and that crazy human just to prove that they can't be killing themselves off and get all the glory," Gimli volunteered.

"But the chase could lead us all to our doom," Boromir objected. "What proof do we have that our companions yet live."

"Aye, but what do we see or hear that guarantees their defeat? Nothing! It seems there are risks either way."

"But if the Ring goes off to the enemy . . ." Boromir cut himself off, seeing that Merry was stirring.

"Hello, Frodo, Gimli, Boromir. Any sign of the others?" Merry asked in his happy-go-lucky way.

"None," answered Frodo, "and it's past dawn."

"Gime 'em time. Ye can't expeck 'em to run like deer in this fog," Merry laughed. He was always the optimist.

'If only it were that simple, Merry,' Frodo thought. He felt uncomfortable even in his mind, fantasizing that Boromir could hear all he thought, whether he said it or not. He envied Merry. He knew some of what lay ahead, but had, perhaps, no role to play in how the dice of fate would roll. But he was in as much danger now as the rest of the Company was. What would happen if Pippin and Merry should be injured, or killed? What if they saw the death of a good friend? No. Frodo knew he must protect his cousins. To him, the represented innocence, and, in a way, the Shire. If innocence were shattered, the Shire would be gone, its ideals crushed, erased forever from time's memory. It was these thoughts and the sweet memory of the Shire that drove Frodo to sleep that foggy morning.

* * *

Legolas awoke to an earthquake. 'No, that's not it,' he thought. The beating of drums, no. It was a combination of the two. He opened his eyes and saw nothing, save fog. Judging by the amount of light, it was nearly nine o' clock. That meant he and Aragorn had slightly over an hour to escape and return to the others. Aragorn! Where was that Ranger? Legolast tried to stand, but found his legs and arms were bound.

"Great," muttered Legolas. "Just great." Just then, another party of Uruk-Hai and Orcs arrived. Legolas tried to understand what they were saying, but the dark tongue was difficult for even the ears of elves to comprehend, for it was destined for evil tongues and ears. He caught something about Saruman and Isengard. Something caught his eyes: a star low, amid where, from the sounds of it, the foul Company was located. 'No star is ever that low,' thought Legolas. There was only one thing in Ennorath that light could be: the Evenstar. Luckily for the Companions, Aragorn had not decided to leave it with Frodo for safe keeping as he had considered it a power that might aid the others since they were depriced of the protection of Anduril and the Bow of Legolas. Legolas scooted himself slowly but surely towards the only light he could see. He ran into several Uruk-hai in the process, bruising him up pretty badly from all that armor they wore, but, fortunately, they could not feel the impact. He eventually reached Aragorn, but could only see the outline of the Human he knew so well.

"Dunedain," he whispered over the wind, which had mellowed some since the previous night, but was still fairly violent. Aragorn was motionless, save his shallow breathing. "Aragorn," Legolas called again. Aragorn mumbled in Elvish.

"Nin este. Dhinnan le." I rest. You silence.

"Cuiva, mellon nin. Dagor utulien. (Wake up, my friend. Battle has come.)" Legolas practically shouted in Aragorn's ear.

"What time is it?" Aragorn asked, still half-asleep.

"By my account, it's neary ten o' clock. One more hour and the others will be forced to choose."

"Don't give up yet, Frodo," Aragorn whispered, as if somohow he thought Frodo could hear him. Legolas saw the Uruk-hai had taken Anduril as well as Aragorn's bow and daggers, which probably meant his bow and knives from Lorien had also been stolen. Getting out of this mess would be a challenge, but Legolas vowed to escape, or at least allow his companinon to escape. There was a reason the Uruks had not yet killed them, but neither companion knew what it was. Then, throught the fog, Legolas saw imprinted on the armor the White Hand of Saruman. "At least we know whose slaves they are," Legolas mused. But that still didn't answer the question. Why were they alive?


	5. You and I will meet again

1Chapter 5

You and I will meet again

"Frodo, I have some disturbing news. Gimli went out this morning to find the others. I could not prevent him and did not want to leave you and the others unprotected. He came back not long ago with many wounds. He told me he had found the others, but they were no longer alive. I did the best I could for him, but the enemy was bred solely for destruction. His wounds were too many and too grave." Boromir broke off, unable to tell Frodo that yet another member of their Fellowship had been killed. The Ringbearer's eyes were filled with tears. "Do the others know yet?" he asked.

Boromir shook his head. "Not yet; I wanted to tell you first." Just then, Sam ran up.

"Mr. Frodo, I can't find Pippin and Merry!" he exclaimed. Without hesitating, Frodo ran blindly into the fog calling their names. Before Sam could run after him, Frodo was lost from sight.

"Pippin! Merry! Pippin! Merry!"

"Frodo, Frodo," came Pippin's terrified voice.

"Pippin! Where's Merry?" The two were inseparable, but the other half of the pair was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know. We got separated!" Just then, they heard a scream. Both Hobbits dashed toward it, making sure they stayed together. After running a short distance, they saw Merry lying on the ground, bloody and barely conscious.

"Hallo, Pip," he said, pain resounding in his voice.

"Merry, come on. We must get you to Boromir; he will be able to do something for you," Pippin said, so full of hope.

"I don't think so, Pip. I'm dying. I can feel it." Merry's face braced in pain as he said it.

"No, Merry. You'll live. You have to," Pippin protested, his eyes filling with tears.

"Frodo," Merry called, his voice barely above a whisper. "If the Quest is ever finished, be sure Cousin Bilbo mentions me in his book." He looked at Pippin for the last time. "Save the Shire for me, Pip." With that, Merry's breath slowed and then stopped entirely. A few moments later, Frodo felt the ground shake. Pippin, who for once knew what was going on, charged headlong into the Uruk-Hai.

"For Merry!" Pippin shouted as he disappeared. Frodo watched in horror as a few Uruk-Hai fell and the others eventually retreated. Pippin was nowhere to be seen.

"Pippin!" Frodo screamed and ran to the battle scene. He scanned the ground until he found the Elven brooch of Lorien beside the body of an Uruk-Hai. He rolled it with much difficulty and found Pippin's body crushed beneath it. Frodo felt for his heartbeat, but it wasn't there. Frodo dragged him over beside Merry's body. He knew he would not be able to drag their bodies back to the Shire, so he buried them there near Amon Hen. He wept long beside their mounds, marked with the leaves of Lorien. That was where Boromir found him much later.

"The Hobbits?" he asked. Frodo nodded, not looking up. "I'm sorry, Frodo. This is all the more reason for you to go to Minas Tirith. You must rest and get reinforcements. You and Sam cannot go to Mordor alone."

"The longer we procrastinate, the stronger Sauron will become."

"But if the Ring comes to Gondor, we can fight him, repel his strength. Then when Sauron is weakened, we can set out and destroy the Ring." Frodo was only half-listening to Boromir. In his heart, he knew what he must to, but he was terrified.

"This task was appointed to you. If you do not find a way, no one will," Galadriel said in Frodo's mind. Suddenly he was resolved.

"Boromir, I'm going to Mordor. The Ring must be destroyed."

Frodo felt Boromir's hands grasp his neck tightly. There was a crazed light in his eyes. He was now power mad, strong and dangerous.

"Boromir, let go!" Boromir didn't hear Frodo's cries. Frodo struggled but could not get free or even reach the Ring. He felt consciousness beginning to leave him. Then he heard a voice.

"All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you." The voice was Gandalf's. The words he had spoken to Frodo so long ago in Moria were perhaps the truest thing Frodo had ever heard. Now Frodo could see Gandalf's face, gentle and kind, telling him without words not to be afraid. Frodo knew he was going to meet his old friend again. Frodo no longer saw Boromir's mad face, but saw him as he was when he once taught Pippin and Merry to swordfight. He saw their faces, as well, happy and innocent as their homeland. He saw Gandalf's smiling face and his last battle, the day he fell in Khazad-Dum. He saw Gimli as he had been outside Khazad-Dum, more joyful than he was on any day afterwards. Legolas singing of Nimrodel as the Fellowship entered Lorien, his ancient eyes shining with the wisdom of ages. He saw Aragorn beside the Lady Arwen in Rivendell, years younger than he seemed at any other time. Then he saw the Shire and Gandalf spoke again.

"All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you." As he said this, Frodo saw Sam's face. Sam! He was still alive. With every ounce of strength and breath he had left in his Hobbit body, Frodo screamed long and loud.

"Sam!" Then consciousness, and life, left him, and he was gone.


	6. The sounds of the dead

1

Chapter 6

The Dead Have No Cries

"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, shaking him. Frodo opened his eyes, surprised he still could. "What is it, Mr. Frodo!?" Frodo looked up to see Boromir, Gimli, and Merry looking worriedly down at him. Then he saw Pippin sleeping soundly nearby and relaxed slightly.

"What time is it?" Frodo asked.

"It's almost ten, or I'm no Dwarf," Gimli informed him. Frodo's heart sank.

"The others aren't back," Frodo sighed.

"They still have time," Merry said, as optimistic as ever. He headed off to wake Pippin. There was an awkward silence because no one really knew what to say. Finally Boromir broke the silence.

"What was it that troubled your sleep, Frodo? You'd barely been asleep an hour when you started crying and screaming for Sam."

"I don't know. I guess it was a dream and nothing more," Frodo lied. Maybe he would tell Sam, later, when they were alone, but he couldn't speak the truth to Boromir, not after he had seen that light in his eyes. Maybe it was simply a dream, but perhaps it was more, much more.

Nearby, Frodo heard Pippin protesting to Merry's wake-up call. 'Good-ol' Pip,' Frodo thought, 'so sweet and innocent.' Gimli had set to pacing, muttering something about idiotic elvish princeling who couldn't keep himself out of trouble. It was obvious to Frodo, although Gimli could use every excuse in the book, he really cared about Legolas as if he were his brother.

"Well, the time of choice is upon us," Boromir said, calling the six remaining members of the Fellowship together. "What now shall become of our Company?" The silence upon which Boromir's question remained was as deadly to the spirit as the sword to the body. Fear fell upon Frodo, the same fear that had held his heart in grasp in the night. He had seen in Galadriel's Mirror what would happen should his Quest fail. She had also warned him of Boromir. Though his intentions were noble, what would he do to ensure the safety of Gondor? Would he bring about the doom of the world? The only answers Frodo heard to his questions were the silence and the wind whispering in a voice and tongue his ears did not understand. In it he found no comfort.


	7. The Shadows Spread

Chapter 7

The Shadows Spread

Legolas shivered in the cold morning. He still could not see much through the fog and could barely see Aragorn a few feet away from him. They had been struggleing with their bonds for about an hour now. It utter frustration, Legolas smacked his hands to his head. When the metal clasped to his hands hit his forehead, he deeply regretted his decision. Pain seeped through his entire body and made him cringe. 'Never do that again,' he scolded himself, but he had every reason to be frustrated. The rest of the Fellowship would probably leave him and Aragorn for dead. In a way, Legolas hoped they would. Their Quest was to destroy the Ring. They would escape together, he and Aragorn. They'd both been in worse situations, wounded and nearly dead. They were better off now together and fully functional. Well, mostly functional, Legolas corrected himself as his side insisted it was not okay. He hoped Aragorn hadn't been seriously wounded. He would never admit he was, nor could Legolas do much to cure him, since he had not the use of his hands.

An Uruk came and yelled something at the companions. He kicked Legolas repeatedly. The Elf wished he could understand what the vile creature was saying. So he would stop kicking him. He was losing blood and felt as if he would pass out. After trying to understand the Uruk several times, Legolas caught two words: up and verash. Verash was a variation on some Elvish word, but the pain from his wound was affecting his concentration . . . um . . . er . . . half, half, . . . halflings? What about the halflings? The Uruks were from Isengard, so maybe . . .

Legolas only got that far before an Uruk gave him a sharp kick and he knew no more. A few feet away, Aragorn barely saw Legolas' body go limp, but wasn't worried. He had seen his friend's wounds and, although they were serious, none were fatal. then he heard it, the ill voice he sincerely had hoped he would never hear again.

"He wants you to rise, Elessar."

"Why do you tell me this?" Aragorn yelled into the wind.

"You do not need a demonstration of my power. You know I can destroy the world of Men."

"Then do it and start with me," Aragorn dared the Wizard.

"I need you, Elessar. You can join me and become the most powerful of all men. Together you and I can rule this Middle-Earth. You can stop the destruction which would surely occur should the Ring fall into the hand of Sauron. But under Aragorn and Saruman, the world will prosper." The Uruk now came over to Aragorn and stood over him, yelling. Aragorn arose and head-butted the Uruk, which fell over. The others raced to it and ripped its flesh apart, devouring every part of it. Aragorn, forgetting that his feet were bound, tried to run to Legolas, but fell after a few unbalanced steps. He proceeded to crawl to his friend's side. Upon exaamination, he found that Legolas' wound had reopened, the wound in his side, which may have become infected by now, as well as an arrow wound in his back.

"Legolas, Legolas!" the ranger called. He needed to know if there was any way he could help his companion. After a few moments, the elf opened his eyes.

"Aragorn, they think we're the hobbits." Aragorn knew better than to ask how his friend had come across that information.

"Mellon nin, you're hurt. You have to get out of here."

"How do you suggest we do that? The Uruks would notice we were gone and recapture us before we reached the others or another safe haven," Legolas whispered, obviously in a great ammount of pain.

"The others will be long gone before we find them in this fog," Aragorn sighed. For a moment, he wondered what would become of the others, or what had become of them.

"Maybe Gimli will come for us. It'll be good for his record to say he rescued a no good, pointy eared, elven princeling," Legolas joked, trying to keep his spirits lights. Neither he nor Aragorn had the heart to manage more than a smile. Aragorn was sincerely hoping that the remaining members of the Fellowship would not come seeking for them, since that would delay the quest. Aragorn could just see himself taking revenge on Saruman for all the evils that had been incured since his turn to evil.

"Gondor is obviously the safer route. Many of my people would be willing to enter Mordor when the time comes. Gondorians have courage to match taht of even Aragorn, son of Arathorn. It would be folly to rush into Mordor with only the six of us," Boromir said.

"Five of us going to Mordor, if what you've been saying since we left Rivendell is true an' you're headin' to Minas Tirith," Sam corrected. The council had begun nearly an hour ago and nothing had been accomplished as of yet. Not one of them knew who would lead the compqany, where they were bound, or how they would get there.

"It would be god to rest without much fear of the enemy," Gimli added.

"But that would give Sauron more time ot build his armies. I feel there is great need for haste and I fear . . ." Frodo faltered when Boromir's eyes met his own.

"What do you fear, Frodo?" Boromir asked.

"What would become of Middle Earth if Sauron would maximize his power," Frodo replied. Boromir looked as if he doubted Frodo's answer, but said nothing further. Thus far in the council, Pippin had said almost nothing , not wanting to sound like a complete imbecel, but now he spoke up.

"It seems to me that we all need a break before the last . . . um . . . lap of our journey. Gondor might not be as magical as Lorien, but it'd be a relief from so much fighting and business." Frodo felt he was losing his battle. Merry, Boromir, and Gimli, had seemingly already opted for Gondor. Now, it seemed they would either go to Gondor, or the fellowship of the ring would be broken even further. Frodo wanted so badly to escape by himself to Mordor and continue the quest without further endangering the lives of those he loved, but he could not do so now, not with all five pairs of eyes fixed on him. Their eyes waited anxiously for his answer. What would become of their fellowship?

Author's Note:So, what do you think? Where is the fellowship going? In response to the question about Saruman becoming a telepath, I figured it would only be fair to extend his powers as a wizard once he was in league with Sauron. I know it's been a while since I updated, and I apologize. I will do better this year, honest. Farewell for now. Oh, yeah Read and review.

-MornieGalad


	8. The Fates Peek Out

1**_Chapter 8:_**

_**The Fates Peek out**_

"It seems it would be best if our company did not separate. Since so many of us seem to

long for Gondor, I will go with them. And I only hope Gondor will not prevent us from fulfilling our quest. This way, at least, we do not have to immediately decide upon a leader."

"So it is decided," said Boromir.

"Looks like," said Sam. Frodo smiled, but inside he had a terrible feeling of anxiety, an inner fear of Gondor. Would Gondor prove to be a safe haven, as Lorien was, as Boromir believed it to be? In his heart, Frodo knew it would be dangerous anywhere now, even in Lothlorien. The shadow was spreading, no longer could Frodo simply hide. He knew Sauron would strike Gondor soon. His only hope was a disguise. The company still had a ways to go before actually entering Gondor. Perhaps he would be able to convince the others of the need to hide the weapon of the enemy.

"They'll find an escape on their own if they've been captured," Gimli tried to assure Pippin and Merry. To the ears of the young Hobbits, he sounded certain, but Frodo heard the doubt and regret in his voice. Gimli was almost blaming himself because he hadn't been able to convince the rest of the company to find their lost comrades. The others were either divided or too intent on a quest: Boromir his desire for Gondor, Sam, his loyalty to Frodo, and Frodo himself intent on performing the task that he had set out to do.

"You're worried, aren't you, Frodo? You worry about Gondor preventing you from accomplishing the quest. I assure you, no Gondorian will hold you fast against your will. You have my word," Boromir assured him, coming alongside the ringbearer. Frodo nodded, but said nothing. He was wishing Gandalf were there, wishing he were back at the Green Dragon Inn singing songs with his friends and drinking without a care in the world. 'If only,' Frodo thought, as he fell asleep. None of the others woke him, though they knew the need for haste.

'These Uruk-hai are cruel,' thought Aragorn. Because they wanted more meat, a few of the Uruks had removed the bonds from his hands. Sensing Legolas, though wounded he was, would be far more dangerous if he could use his hands, they had kept his restraints in place. Aragorn was, at the moment, trying to unbind his friend. One of the Uruk Captains came over and barked at him to stop. Aragorn struggled with the Uruk for a few seconds, then managed to strangle it to death. In an instant, the brood of its comrades was on the corpse, devouring it. Aragorn took advantage of this distraction and returned to Legolas' side. After an eternity of struggling with the bonds, Aragorn groaned in frustration.

"This iron is so strong," he grunted. Legolas managed to smile, trying to encourage his friend. Aragorn's hand came to rest on Legolas's. He drew back in surprise to find that it was ice cold. He reached to feel the elf's forehead, but Legolas turned aside.

"I'm all right, Aragorn," he insisted, but he couldn't fool either of them. The loss of blood was taking its toll. Nearby Legolas saw the elven cloak he had worn since the company had left Lothlorien. The Uruks must have ripped it off while struggling with the prisoners. Legolas slithered toward it, but didn't make much progress before his muscles refused to move. Aragorn made the rest of the journey for him and draped the cloak over the elf's body.

"Hannon Le thank you"

"Dur si, mellon nin. Sleep now, my friend I won't let Saruman poison you today." At the very mention of the wizard's name, Legolas seemed to tense up. Eventually he relaxed and gave in to sleep. Even as he slept, th4e magic of the elven cloak worked. Haldir had said that the cloaks would not act as mail, but they did have the healing power of the land from which they came. Legolas' wounds stopped bleeding and his body began to warm. Aragorn saw a small smile creep over his friend's face. He placed his hand on the elf's forehead now that he met no resistance. It was warm now, but now feverish. Now Aragorn could ponder his vengeance on the white wizard or, more importantly, how to get out of there. Legolas had said the Uruks believed them to be Hobbits. He could guess why Saruman wanted the Halflings: the ring, but the Uruks didn't seem to be moving any nearer to Isengard, or anywhere else for that matter. Maybe the Uruks believed the rest of the Company would come for them, so they could capture the Hobbits. 'Don't come for us,' Aragorn prayed silently. As he did so, he heard singing. It was a song he had not heard since he left Imladris. It had been named for Arwen, but really spoke to all the elven folk. In English it ran as such:

"This is not the end, it is the beginning, Now you must trust this. If you trust nothing else, trust this, trust love, trust hope."

Aragorn soon realized it was Legolas singing in his sleep. Aragorn sighed. It was Legolas

Far away, under the foggy sky as the morning sun rose high above the world, Frodo heard the song of Legolas on the wind. He did not understand all the words or place the voice, but he knew the it spoke of hope and trust. The song was beautiful and dreamy, but he couldn't dismiss it as a mere imagination. Someone whose voice he knew was telling him to hold to hope and trust the others. He sighed, knowing that what the song demanded would be difficult, but he must. All of the others had good intentions and they would shine through, even as the rays of sunlight now began to shine through the fog.


	9. Problems and Promises

_This is not a chapter where I write an amusing disclaimer, so I will be brief. I don't own it. Enjoy. MornieGalad_

**Chapter Nine: Problems and Promises**

Legolas was awoken by the sound of another party of Uruk-Hai meeting the others. He forced his eyes open and was surprised to find he felt quite refreshed.

"Good morning," Aragorn greeted him. "Did you know you sang in your sleep?" Legolas nodded, a knowing look in his eyes and a smirk on his face.

"Sharkey's little problem is out of the way," one of the Uruks who had just arrived informed the head Uruk, whose name, Aragorn had discovered, was Lurtz.

"Put him with the other two," Lurtz commanded. A tall human, still struggling against his captor was dragged to the place where the two companions were resting.

"Just wait until I get my hands on that filthy, murderous, dictator who calls himself a wizard!" yelled the fiery human. "Who are you?" he asked upon seeing the elf and the man.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"Legolas of Mirkwood."

"Eomer, son of Eomund of Rohan," the man told them, "or at least, what is left of Rohan."

* * *

"I suppose we should get going," Frodo said, waking from a very peaceful sleep. Gimli sighed. Leaving would mean abandoning Legolas and Aragorn to an uncertain fate. Gimli busied himself helping Boromir shove the boats into the river to keep his mind off this. The Hobbits began to pack up the food. Soon they were off down the river. Frodo watched as their campsite faded into the distance. No one spoke much. No one wanted to remember whom they had left behind or what the fates of the fellowship of the ring might now be. They must look to the path ahead. They were headed for Osgiliath. Boromir hoped that his brother, Faramir, would still be stationed there. Perhaps if he escorted the Company to Minas Tirith, he would win the favor of their father, a feat which seemed impossible for the younger son of Denethor.

The river bore the boats swiftly toward Gondor as the wind howled viciously about them. The fog had lifted enough so each personcould see the other twoboats. Merry, being the smallest of the experienced members, was placed with the supplies in the last boat. Frodo rode with Gimli, and Sam, Pippin, and Boromir led the way. Boromir spoke endlessly about the splendor of Minas Tirith and the welcome they would receive from the Steward of Gondor. It was obvious that he was not doing this for the comfort of anyone else, although it did lift Pippin's spirits a bit, but for his own sake. It was his method of not allowing himself to think of other things. Frodo, however, could think of no comfort he would rather have than the perceptive eyes of Legolas, the serious glance of Aragorn, and the tender voice of Gandalf. Alas, he could have none of those things. They had all been torn from the quest. Once, he asked Gimli to sing the song the Dwarves had sung at Bilbo's unexpected party, more than fifty years ago, in an attempt to cheer both of them. It was a good song, but Frodo found it clashed horribly with the song Galadriel had sung as they left Lothlorien, the Lament for Gandalf, or the song of Nimrodel that Legolas had sung as they entered the golden wood, all of which were alternately boring themselves into his brain. Merry, however, didn't seem to need cheering up, but was doing his best to improve Gimli and Frodo's spirits. He kept bringing his boat up beside theirs and chatting about whatever popped into his mind, mostly wondering jovially how Legolas and Aragorn would find them. This was obviously his way of coping, thought Frodo, as Gimli explained that Aragorn would head for Minas Tirith and the "no good, stupid, elf," would accompany him, since that was the only option, save Rohan, to flee to for safety or a battle, whichever he preferred. For Merry's sake, Gimli implied that it would be unbelievably safe within the borders of Gondor.

After a short time, Boromir's boat slowed. Frodo, curious as to why this was, hopefully, yet fearfully glanced over both shores. For a moment, he had dared to hope that their missing comrades had been spotted, but he saw only trees. Then he looked ahead of him. Two enormous statues stood on either side of the Anduin River. Both had one of their hands extended and kept a sword steady, the enormous point to the ground, with the other.

"Behold the Argonath! Behold Isildur and Anarion, the great lords of Gondor in the Elder days," Boromir cried.

"They sure are tall and stony," Pippin joked, trying hard to break the uncomfortable serious silence. Amid the fog which still lay upon the world, the pillars looked cold and menacing. Frodo hoped they didn't represent the Gondorians' feelings toward the fellowship, but couldn't help thinking that, stone though they were, these great men knew what was occurring. They could sense the presence of the ring. Frodo turned his head to look at the one he believed to be Isildur. He couldn't see the eyes of the gigantic statue through the fog, but he felt sure they were looking directly at him, at the ring of power around his neck, the ring that had once been on his finger.

"Soon we will come to the Falls of Rauros. Bring the boats ashore," Boromir yelled to the others, a while after passing the Argonath. Behind Frodo, Merry turned his boat skillfully and rested it on the shore. Frodo took up his paddle and began to steer the elven boat in the same direction. They began to sway dangerously. Both the dwarf and the hobbit attempted to right it, but in vain. The boat tipped and the freezing water of the Anduin closed in about them, the current beginning to pull them further down the stream.

"Frodo!" Sam shouted. Boromir quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. Not a second later, an arrow flew from the opposite shore, directlyabpve the overturned boat, skimming the place where Frodo's head would have been had the boat not flipped. Miraculously, the remainder of the fellowship was unscathed by it and the arrow became imbedded in a tree. Boromir motioned for the rest of them to get down. Before anyone could protest, Boromir stripped himself of his sword and rushed into the water. They all watched the river andthe opposite shore with baited breath, but no more arrows came. After what seemed like an eternity, Boromir emerged, dragging both Frodo and Gimli with him. Racing them to shore, he then beached the third boat, which had somehow righted itself and, amazingly, hadn't been swept away by the current.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. Frodo nodded, still catching his breath. He collapsed against the tree with the arrow in it. Unconsciously, he glanced up at Sam and caught a glimpse of the arrow. He started with fright.

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo. That came flying out of the other side of the bank just after your boat flipped over. Everyone's fine, though. It skimmed right over where you should have been and then stuck here." Frodo lowered his head and Boromir came over.

"This is no orc arrow," he said, after examining it.

"Where's it from?" Sam asked, anxiously.

"I do not recognize it, but it's too well made for orcs, and . . ." Boromir stopped. He did not speak again, but tugged the arrow from the tree trunk and cast it out into the rapids of the Anduin.

"I think that might have been some elvish magic, Sam. The boats are trying to protect the ring. But if the orcs didn't shoot, who was it?" Frodo whispered, so no one else could hear. "I think some good power is trying to prevent us from going to Gondor, but there's no other way. We're going there for everyone's benefit. We all need a rest."

"I think you've been talking to Mister Boromir far too much, Mister Frodo, but I think I might be able to bear the burden a while, if it would help." Seeing the look of horror on his master's face, he added, "Not that I want to, understand, but you need a rest, sir, and I promised Gandalf I'd look after you. After all, Master Elrond did say the Company could share your burden. That's why he didn't send you off alone." Then, earnestly, "you need help. You cannot do this alone."

"To bear a ring of power is to be alone, Sam," Frodo said slowly. "We're going to Gondor for help."

"And you will certainly receive it, Frodo, whatever you need," promised Boromir, who was preparing the campfire behind them. Sam sighed, feeling utterly helpless.

"Just promise to tell me if you need anything," Sam said. "For Gandalf," he choked back tears on the last words.

"All right, Sam," Frodo promised. "For Gandalf."


	10. As Long as I Live

_Disclaimer: I still own nothing. _

**Chapter Ten: As Long As I Live**

"So, now that Saruman has me in his grasp, he will extend his control over Rohan through King Theoden. There will be none left to oppose his rule and the world of men will fall."

"Gondor still stands," Aragorn said.

"Sauron will soon remedy that," Legolas whispered. His voice had gotten progressively quieter as more and more Uruks passed by and gave him a rough kick or two. They seemed to think it great fun to torment the injured "halfling". The elf's face was pale and cold. An Uruk had thrown the cloak of Lorien into a nearby tree and fastened bonds around the three companions hands.

"Legolas!" a voice blasted in his ears.

"What?"

"Have you reconsidered my offer? I have the power to stop your pain or kill you at will. You know this. I want your trust and your friendship."

"I know what it is you want and as long as I live, I will not allow you to have it," Legolas shouted, a wave of pain washing over him.

"Legolas Greenleaf," Saruman laughed. "The mighty warrior. You are helpless, bleeding, weak, exhausted, half dead, and captured by my fighting Uruk Hai. What power could you possibly possess that would aid you?"

"Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel!" the brave elf shouted with great effort. The sun seemed to grow brighter for a brief moment.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's familiar voice questioned him, concernedly.

"He doesn't look well," Eomer observed, leaning in closer to Legolas.

"The fog must be clouding your eyes. I'm fine," Legolas spat defensively.

"Good! Then maybe I'll just let those Uruks pulverize you without a second thought," replied Eomer, frustratedly.

"Then let Rohan fall swiftly and be blamed for the doom of Ennorath!" the elf cursed, causing alarm to spring up in Aragorn's eyes. This was drastically unlike Legolas to lash out at a friend and curse a country in such a rash manner. Something was desperately wrong.

Although neither human could see him, Legolas had to brace himself hard against the ground to keep from fainting. His vision blurred and he didn't see the orc that had come to torture him until it was too late. It smiled maliciously upon the elf and then kicked him like pile of dirt, on his side, his shoulders and his head. The elf couldn't help but groan from the pain that had amounted. He could feel blood trickling down from his head, but was powerless to stop it. As the orc was about to strike yet another blow, Eomer, fully armored blocked it. After a few attempts, the orc realized he would be unable to get to the elf and admitted defeat, heading off toward the other orcs.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner," Eomer apologized, turning to Legolas. "Stupid bonds combined with the fog."

"Hannon le," Legolas whispered, barely audible. "Are you hurt?" Eomer shook his head.

"Armor comes in handy," Eomer replied. "I'm fine, or better." He held up his hands, revealing his bonds had been sundered. Through all the pain, Legolas managed a smile. Eomer crawled over to the tree the Uruks had thrown Legolas' cloak into. Grabbing the lowest branch, he swung himself up. In no time at all, he had gotten the cloak and climbed down. He draped it over the elf's body, which, only now did he realize, was shaking like leaves in a hurricane. "Sleep, my friend," Eomer whispered gently.

"Hannon le," was all he managed as he drifted off to sleep.

"He must be quite a warrior," Eomer commented. Aragorn said nothing, but looked at Legolas, a deeply worried look on his face. "How did he get the arrow wounds, and why are you in this cursed country?" Aragorn sighed.

"We have a quest appointed us by the Council of Elrond in Rivendell. Legolas and I were two of a nine-member company. The quest . . ." Aragorn debated telling Eomer of the ring. There had been no representative of the Rohirrim at the council, but they still had a right to know, and he felt he could trust Eomer. ". . . was to destroy the one ring." The expression on Eomer's face had not changed, so Aragorn continued. "Gandalf the Grey was our guide, but he was lost in the Mines of Moria."

"That is not news that will be welcomed by many of the people of Rohan!" Eomer exclaimed. "He was a good keeper of the righteous and all that was good in this Middle Earth." Aragorn knew this all too well. He nodded, and swallowed before continuing.

"Legolas and I set out yesterday to scout out our trail. I told the others to wait for us one day. They've gone by now."

" Where would they have gone?" asked Eomer.

"To Mordor, either directly or through Gondor. It depends on who was chosen to lead them." He fell silent, resuming his vigil over Legolas. At length, Eomer spoke again.

"How was Legolas wounded, if I may ask? I see you are reluctant to speak of it, but perhaps I can help, somehow." Aragorn looked over the man for a long while before replying. He was young, less than thirty years of age, but very knowledgeable and realistic. Aragorn decided it was no good hiding this from him.

"He was wounded while we were scouting out the terrain. A goblin arrow pierced his side because he warned me of it. Where the other wound came from, I do not know." Eomer placed his hand on the ranger's shoulder understandingly.

"Don't blame yourself. He is a warrior and knows as well as you the risks that occupation brings." From the ruckus of the Uruk army, they heard the word 'Saruman'. Both men's faces winced in expressions of utter hatred. In that instant, they realized they shared a common goal: revenge on Saruman.

Aragorn soon crawled over to his friend's side. Sweat beaded his pale brow, but he was still shivering.

"Mithrandir," Legolas called as loud as he could, which was a pained whimper. Aragorn motioned to Eomer, who came over, placing his hand on the elf's forehead.

"He's warm," he worried.

"He must be fighting against infection."

"Hold on, Legolas," Eomer whispered. "Keep fighting, my friend."

Legolas couldn't hear the young man, but he was certainly fighting: for breath, for life, for his sanity. Pictures of Gandalf's dead body, mutilated from his battle with the Balrog flashed through his mind as his body convulsed from the heat of the fever and the Earthly chill of exhaustion. He hadn't had any peaceful rest, but was too weak to open his eyes.

"Fight," He ordered himself. "Don't allow yourself to be mastered." It wasn't easy to carry out those orders. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but so much blood had been lost that he felt drained of life. He was thirsty and drowning, starving and bursting, burning and freezing at the same time. He couldn't stand another moment of it. Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Take some food, young Hobbit. This is the best stuff we've had since we left Lorien," Gimli insisted.

"I need t' do some thinking, Mr. Gimli. Something's not right with Mr. Frodo, but he won't let me help him with it," Sam confided. The group had decided to have lunch before carrying the boats down Rauros. Sam had been sitting by himself since he'd prepared the animal Gimli and Boromir had killed for the Fellowship's lunch.

"He's been under a lot of pressure lately, laddie, what with Gandalf's death and the other two not returning, but you worry too much about him. He'll be fine once we arrive in Gondor for a rest." Sam wanted to believe Gimli terribly, but somehow he knew things would only get worse once they were in Gondor. He looked past Gimli at his Master who was watching Pippin and Merry sing and make fools of themselves, pretending water was beer. For the first time since they left Lorien, Sam thought he saw his Master smile. 'Maybe things will be all right,' he thought.

"Come on, lad," Gimli summoned the Hobbit, helping him off the stump he was on. Sam couldn't help but notice a note of sadness in the Dwarf's voice. He tried to disguise it, but Sam knew he missed Aragorn, and even Legolas. Most of them were disguising their guilt, pain, and regret, so the others couldn't see them. Frodo's grief was so obvious, thought Sam. Maybe that was why he had opted for Gondor. Pippin and Merry were both so young; they were trying to cope with death and loss by holding onto the hope that Aragorn and Legolas still lived. Boromir . . . 'well, who knows about Boromir,' Sam thought. 'He's going home, that's all that matters.'

Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and Boromir were laughing and dancing around the campfire, singing Bilbo's song about the Man in the Moon. Frodo was glad for the distraction from the road ahead.

"I hate to break up the party, but the Enemy is watching and listening. Some of us are too loud for our own good," Gimli observed grumpily.

"Aww! We were almost to the part where Frodo disappeared at the Inn of the Prancing Pony," Pippin moaned.

"I never did get to see that stunt," joked Merry. "Do it again, Frodo."

"Well, I was having a good time until someone mentioned seriousness," the ringbearer jested.

"Gimli started it," Pippin defended himself.

"Come, come, gentlemen. There's only one way to settle this," called Boromir, drawing his sword. He thrust it at Gimli, but the Dwarf scowled and walked away.

"What's wrong with him?" Pippin asked.

"It beats me," replied Sam, while fighting Boromir.

"Sam," Frodo laughed and joined the jest. Pippin and Merry found their swords and added to the cause.

"Let's see, four on one, can the Captain of the White Tower, Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, take the enemy? Yes, he can," Boromir laughed as he shielded himself and fought the Hobbits.

"For the Shire," Merry joked as he ducked Boromir's sword and tweaked him in the leg.

"Gondor is avenged!" he cried, nicking all four Hobbits in one stroke.

"Oh, come on, all of you!" Gimli growled.

"Come on, little ones," Boromir called. Reluctantly, the four Halflings followed. Once they reached the boats, Boromir said "Stay here. Gimli and I will carry the boats to the other side of Rauros." He removed the baggage from Merry's boat and plopped it on the Shore. Then he was gone, taking the lead boat with him.

"Well, there's no sense in the fire going to waste," Pippin declared, pulling his pipe from a bag. The other Hobbits followed suit, sticking twigs into the fire and lighting a few weeds they put in their pipes.

"As long as I live I will never understand Hobbits. How can they sing when the enemy is in hot pursuit of us? Frodo may be the Ringbearer, but even he does not seem to grasp the severity of our situation. Please enlighten me, if you can, laddie," Gimli complained. Boromir was silent for a while. Then he began to sing quietly.

"Home is behind, the world ahead and there are many paths to tread through shadows to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, we'll wander back to home and bed. Mist and shadow, cloud and shad, away shall fade, away shall fade. Fire and lamp and meat and bread and then to bed, and then to bed." He didn't have as good a voice as Legolas or the Hobbits, but it wasn't painful to hear, either. It was a song that brought peace to weary travelers who heard it.

* * *

"Do you hear that?" Eomer asked Aragorn, who nodded in response. It was as if the wind were singing the words to their hearts. "That's no song of men, elves, or Dwarves, that I can tell. Is it a song of these Hobbits?" he inquired.

"It is, but it is not a hobbit singing it. I do not know who it is." Only Legolas recognized the voice, but in his situation, he was uncertain whether he heard it correctly, yet it brought him comfort. It said there were many paths to tread. "Thank you, Boromir."

* * *

"As long as I live, I'll never get used to boats, Mr. Frodo," Sam promised.

"Just move near the Brandywine river and you will," Merry laughed from the last boat. It had taken Gimli and Boromir nearly an hour and a half to load all three boats down the falls. Now the group was making its way down the Anduin river, moving rapidly toward Osgiliath.

"It feels so chilly," observed Pippin. "It must be almost evening."

"No, it's not much into the afternoon," corrected Boromir. Gimli had been silent for a while; he was still in his foul mood. Frodo felt as if the ring was as heavy as a mountain. So, all was silent in the boats now.

The poem is from the Fellowship of the Ring. I didn't make it up.

MornieGalad


	11. What Friends are For

_I do not own this. I still do not own this. I still own nothing. Am I supposed to have more than one space between sentences? I have a critic reading over my shoulder. I still don't own this. space. space. laugh laugh Do I own this yet? No? Oh, well. I guess you want to get to the story huh? Okay. Beware, long disclaimer long story. he he he! MornieGalad._

**Chapter 11**

**What Friends are For**

The Nimrodel. Once again Legolas heard its sweet song, felt its cool water on his feet, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only the sky. He felt cold and feverish all over. Elves don't get sick, he told himself. But his body screamed otherwise, convulsing, freezing, burning, bloody, and weak. The Nimrodel was stained with his blood and the pathetic thing was that he couldn't move. The water covered him and drowned him, but didn't quench his thirst. Then he heard a voice calling his name. Groaning from displeasure, he pretended to be asleep. No such luck, thought Legolas as Saruman's voice echoed like thunder in his head. Summoning all his strength, Legolas quickly reached for his bow, which wasn't there, but screamed as a bolt of lightning snagged his body.

"I can do worse than that, foolish Elf," Saruman laughed cruelly.

"So can I if you'd return my weapons," Legolas spat back, but it took so much effort, he felt he would faint. The fever must be getting to me, he thought.

"Rest," pleaded Saruman mockingly. "They may not get sick, but surely Elves need rest." He set a horrible mist outward which left Legolas coughing, half blind, and struggling even more than before for consciousness and breath. Through the dim light he saw two Uruks standing above him. He lashed out at them as best he could, kicking and ramming his body into them. One placed its hand on Legolas' forehead and the Elf couldn't break free. His breathing was laboured from exhaustion and he was defeated, but only for now.

* * *

Aragorn had been worried when Legolas had spoken to the air, but was now terribly concerned that the Elf had lashed out at them. Eomer removed his gloved hand from the Elf's forehead. Immediately Legolas started fighting again, but soon stopped. He could barely take a breath without coughing like the devil had come. Eomer, whose hands were still unbound, removed his tunic and placed it over the Elf's chest. Trying to warm him, he rubbed the cloth back and forth until Legolas' eyes opened. He realized his two companions looked quite disturbed. 

"I'm all right," he whispered, restraining his coughs while he said it. He tried to sit, and almost succeeded, but was interrupted by another violent loss of breath as a cold, strong wind hit him. It was a few minutes, even with Eomer's massage, before he was able to breathe again. His blue eyes were full of pain and guilt when he spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm such a burden. You shouldn't have to . . ." He was interrupted again by his breath. "worry about me . . ."

"That's what friends are for, Legolas. Now rest," Eomer whispered, placing his hand on his friend's forehead, laying him gently down again.

"That's all I've done since we were captured," he objected.

"You're the one who's injured and needs rest. Besides, we're not really doing much else," Eomer replied. Legolas nodded and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost instantly. Though coughing fits frequently disturbed his breathing, they didn't wake him. Eomer shot Aragorn a worried look as he removed his gloves and placed them on Legolas' cold hands. He felt Legolas' forehead and sighed.

"I don't know how that warrior does it. He's a fighter," he whispered to himself as he held the Elf's hand.

"How is he?" asked Aragorn, dreading the answer.

"I could feel his fever through my glove," sighed Eomer. "He's dehydrated and, from what I can tell, fighting with . . . someone." Aragorn growled in frustration and Legolas shook violently. Eomer knew the Elf might not last much longer if he was kept in captivity. Then he had an idea. He crawled over to the party of Uruks and stood. Drawing his sword, he killed one of them and took its sword. Crawling back to the others, he picked up Legolas, who coughed in protest, and quickly cut the bonds on Aragorn's feet so he could run and his hands. Aragorn in turn cut Eomer's leg bonds and the two men rushed from the camp and used the fog to hide. Aragorn released Legolas from his bonds, hoping to revive his health.

"He needs water," Aragorn observed. Despite the confidence in his voice, he was wondering how ill Legolas really was. He knew that even a slight fever was serious for an Elf and Legolas was burning.

"Where am I?" came Legolas' strained voice.

"We've escaped, mellon nin. You can stand if you wish," Aragorn informed him, grateful to hear his friend speak. He reached for a leaf damp from the fog and pressed it to the Elf's forehead.

"Don't cry, Aragorn. I'll be okay."

"I wasn't crying," Aragorn said defensively.

"It's raining," Eomer discovered. Legolas smiled as the cool rain hit his feverish body. A few instants later, he was too cold to speak. He sighed from frustration, which brought on another coughing fit, which was painful because of the cold.

"Here, my friend, drink this." Eomer offered him a helmet full of rain water. Legolas barely heard him and couldn't make his voice say thank you, but Eomer saw the gratitude in his eyes. He took only a few sips before he lost his breath and started sputtering again.

"If it weren't raining, we could start a fire and burn these herbs to ease his breathing," Aragorn said. Eomer realized that would alert the enemy to their whereabouts and thought of an alternative. He crushed the herbs Aragorn handed him and mixed them with the water. Legolas tried to drink, but the fever was affecting his muscles. When he nearly dropped the helmet, Eomer held it to his friend's lips.

"I know you hate this," Eomer read Legolas' thoughts, "but there's no better way. I'm certain you prefer this to the Houses of Healing."

"Except being a burden to you," Legolas whispered.

"You are no burden, my friend," Aragorn said before Eomer could. He came to Legolas' side as the sky turned pitch black.

"I'll get our weapons from the Orcs," said Eomer. Legolas quickly rose to go with him, but got dizzy and staggered. The two men caught him.

"You can't go alone," he said stubbornly.

"What I can't do is leave you here alone. I'll be fine." Legolas nodded, knowing he was too weak to be of any use.

"Take your helmet," he whispered. Eomer did and vanished into the foggy darkness. "It's some treachery of Sauron's that sends this darkness," the Elf guessed. "Where will we go once Eomer returns and the Uruks move on?" It was painful to talk, but he had to concentrate on something or he would fall unconscious again.

"We shall have to decide," Aragorn said. "I would opt for Rohan, since it is close and, while not renowned for healing, could cure you."

"Aragorn. Nai nin gurth (may I die) before becoming a burden again," Legolas hissed fiercely. Even as he said so, the fever sent his body shaking. Resisting it caused a coughing fit more violent than any of its predecessors. During it, Aragorn fortunately attempted to see if the fever had abated. Just as his breath was about to return, he jolted away from Aragorn's grasp.

"I'll . . . be . . . okay . . . in . . . a mo- . . . ment," he insisted, but slipped into an almost unconscious state. Aragorn knew that with the combination of chills and fever that afflicted Legolas, he could easily go into shock and slip into a coma. He searched around for a certain plant known for its reviving powers. He forced the Elf's jaws open and placed some of the powder he created from the plant inside. The rest he placed on his friend's wounds, which were rapidly becoming infected. As soon as he placed the potion on his skin, Legolas jerked in pain, his eyes flashing open, and bolted straight up. He shot Aragorn a look of physical pain.

"I know why you did it, mellon nin, but did you forget that the nauril plant increases fever after a few minutes?" Legolas asked, almost amused, but not mockingly.

"I had to keep you conscious by any means necessary," Aragorn replied. Legolas nodded and sat again, his muscles already feeling warmer. In the dark, Legolas' body gave a faint glow so Aragorn could see him. The Elf's face looked as if a red fire light were blazing on it, but the Ranger knew this was one of the fever's effects. Moments later, he was so pale that it took a pained smile from his friend for Aragorn to be certain he was alive.

"Eomer isn't back yet," Aragorn said.

"Yes, he is," came a voice. While he normally would have heard the human before his intrusion, his senses were dimmed and the human had startled Legolas into what his body now seemed to specialize in, coughing and shaking. Eomer apologized and handed Legolas and Aragorn their weapons. They thanked him and small-talked while awaiting the sun's return.

* * *

"Boromir, what time is it?"

"How should I know, Pippin? Take your best guess."

"I'd say it was time for afternoon tea. Wouldn't you, Sam?"

"Aye," came the reply from between Boromir and Pippin. Boromir sighed to keep from laughing. His heart was too troubled to laugh. He had never planned on leading the Fellowship and, though in words he had not yet been assigned this task, it seemed the load would fall on him. In secret, he wished Aragorn had returned from the scouting mission, but was well aware that wishful thinking would not change what had happened.

"Boromir," Pippin's voice jerked him out of his thoughts, "how do you know the way in such darkness?"

"The same way you would find the Shire, little one: I know my home. Do you hear the trumpets? They are still some distance off; they come from Osgiliath. With luck we will reach there by nightfall."

"How will we know when that is?"

"It'll be darker than it is right now, Pip," Merry called from the last boat, which wasn't last any longer.

"Merry, you're going to shipwreck us!" Frodo called out in fright. Merry put a malicious look on his face, which was entirely useless in the dark, but he didn't care.

"Young Hobbit, I don't intend to take another swim!" Gimli grouched at Merry. Frodo sighed. That Dwarf was going to drive him insane if he continued in this grumpy manner. After this incident Merry's boat would officially ride between Frodo and Boromir's boats. There was conversation between only Pippin, Merry, and Sam, aside from frequent interruptions from Gimli, complaining that the enemy would surely hear their stupid useless chatter.

"I wish the sun would come out. This place is so dreary without light," Pippin complained.

"The sun won't show her face until we have reached Osgiliath," Boromir predicted. "This is the Enemy's shadow."

"How much further is it?" Merry asked, yawning.

"The current is with us," replied Boromir. "We are nearly there." Frodo nearly jumped from his boat at the good news, as did Sam.

"That's all the better, Mr. Boromir. The sooner we're out o' these boats, the better," Sam declared, shivering and pulling the cloak closer about him.

"Who goes there?" called a voice from the watchtower of Osgiliath.

"It is I, Boromir, son of Denethor," called the son of the Steward.

"Welcome home," came the voice of a man Frodo could not see, but toward which the boats were directed.

"Hello, little brother," Boromir greeted him as he brought his boat to shore. "Friends of Gondor are welcome here," he gestured to the rest of the Company, forgetting Faramir couldn't see him.

"They certainly are," replied the younger human. "But who are these strange folk who bear such darkness to our land?"

"This is Frodo, son of Drogo, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took of the Shire, and Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Dwarves of Erebor," Boromir introduced the Company. "The darkness that greets us comes not from their lands, but from Mordor."

"Strange that no Elves or Wizards accompanied you, but only Shire folk." Frodo swallowed hard at this observation. He was afraid of too many people knowing of the Quest and he did not want the memory of Gandalf, Aragorn, or Legolas to resurface in his mind.

"We have not been without loss; just today we lost two of our folk. Now only the six of us remain." Boromir's tone had changed, and Frodo now heard the regret in his voice when he spoke of those who had fallen. At that moment, for once, Boromir and Frodo were alike in hoping Faramir would press no further questions. Faramir, hearing the reluctance to discuss the matter, followed their unspoken wish, guiding them through the darkness to a building. There they could eat and refresh themselves, much to the delight of the Hobbits, who went immediately to a table enlightened by the blaze of a fire. Gimli went to sleep and was soon snoring. Boromir and his brother reclined at a table a good distance from the Hobbits.

"So, little brother, how is Gondor faring in the insanity of the world?" asked Boromir, mustering a laugh, a feat he had scarcely achieved since the Council of Elrond.

"All the better now that you have returned. A few skirmishes have occurred here, but the city is almost as it was when you left for Rivendell."

"Well done, little brother," Boromir laughed. Suddenly lightning split the sky and brought to Boromir the memory of the song he had heard earlier that day. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to understand the words. Tears filled his eyes as the words of the Elves touched his heart.

"What is it?" asked Faramir, full of concern.

"Memories, nothing more," he replied. Faramir nodded. Some friends should not be spoken of as if hope had been lost.

* * *

Legolas felt as if he were on Caradhras again, submerged in a fiery snow. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and could barely feel anything save the chill and the fire. The fire within him was unquenchable, especially in his stomach. He may have cried out in pain, but the fire had taken his throat.

Eomer removed his drenched tunic from the Elf's body and placed it on his forehead. He was alarmed when he felt his skin burning as warm as flame. Aragorn came over and sighed. Legolas was sweating as if he were on fire, but had fallen asleep. Aragorn reached for the nauroth plant. Eomer recognized it.

"Wait! I have something in my pack that will arouse him. Most sickened beings react to it, but not severely. It will decrease his chance of going into shock, but we'll need something to smoke it with." For their luck, Aragorn had his pipe with him, so Eomer placed the wad in it, lit it, and returned it to Aragorn, who leaned close to Legolas. Within moments Legolas' eyes opened and he began coughing, sneezing, and shaking.

"How much more of that do you have?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Hopefully enough to keep you conscious until we get to Rohan," replied Eomer. Legolas took the hint and managed to rise on his own. Aragorn held the pipe out to him, to which Legolas reacted with a great sneezing fit.

"Elves react worse than humans do," Eomer observed, "but at least he's awake." Legolas had no doubt he was reacting. He could feel his throat getting scratched and his head throbbing.

"Aragorn, please stop," he sneezed.

"You're likely to be more awake if you smoke it a bit," the Ranger teased. He tried to make light of torturing his friend, but got no pleasure from it.

"If you're conscious enough, distance yourself from the pipe," Eomer advised. Legolas did, but still felt miserable. He leaned heavily on Eomer, although he tried not to. The human heard the Elf taking raspy breaths, unusual for a race that breathed with silence and grace.

"Do you want some water?" he asked. Legolas nodded. Water should quench the fire. It did, to some extent, mostly soothing his throat. "We can follow the lightning to a cave nearby," Eomer told the others. "There we can await light."

"There's a dropoff a distance from here. With luck a cave of sorts will accompany it," Legolas observed, his voice still hoarse. His muscles were shaking with the effort it took to walk. Because of the darkness, neither man noticed. By the time they reached the dropoff, he was exhausted and felt faint. Reluctantly he walked toward Aragorn, who was still smoking the pipe. Immediately he jolted awake, but felt fog clouding his senses. He groaned as his stomach jolted. His muscles gave out and he fell, gasping for breath, into Eomer's arms.

"His reaction is getting worse," Aragorn said worriedly. Legolas wouldn't have objected if he could have caught his breath long enough to. He was just hoping the darkness was from blockage of the sun, and not some veil cast upon his eyes.

"Can you make it down the slope?" Eomer asked the Elf. Legolas nodded, wondering if he really had much of a choice. "I'll go first and help you down." Aragorn argued with Eomer for a while, but Legolas barely heard them. The fainting sensation hadn't abated long, but he was still short of breath from his last encounter with the pipe. He was convulsing terribly now and hoped unconsciousness would take him. As he was on the edge of sleep, a furious ranger returned with his pipe lit.

"Please, Aragorn, let me sleep," Legolas begged, dreading the reaction the pipe's smoke would bring.

"I can't do that, mellon nin," Aragorn grouchily replied. Legolas heard the anger in his friend's voice, but felt too sick to ask what was wrong. "Eomer's probably down by now. You should get over there. We'll feed you once we're down." Just the thought of food made the Elf's stomach ill. As he rose, the fit of dizziness he had expected hit him hard. He was prepared for that, but not the sudden cold he felt or the wind that blew the smoke right at him. He collapsed, sneezing terribly.


	12. Grave Happenings

1_Disclaimer: It is a new year, but I still own nothing except, hopefully the ability to make those who read this fic very happy, though you will probably want to strangle me at the end of this chapter. There is a monster at the end of it, just to warn you, so consider yourself warned. _

_In response to spiritstallionofthecimarro's review, Legolas is allergic to the smoke from that particular plant, but it's an Elven thing. Don't try looking it up in the book, I just kind of made it up. I figured the Elves had to have some weakness. _

**Chapter Twelve **

**Grave happenings**

"Get up!" Aragorn yelled and yanked his friend to his feet. He realized what he had done, but was too angry to apologize. Legolas walked, trying not to let Aragorn hear the labor of his breath. "Weakling," he heard Aragorn say from behind him. The desire to throw himself into a fit of rage and fight his friend consumed the Elf as he had never felt it before, but anger blocked his breath and he knew it was a useless waste of his breath asking Aragorn to extinguish the pipe. Legolas held to the edge of the cliff and descended. His limbs were shaking and he was trying to keep his breath steady. He was to the cave and let go, but landed on the very edge, lost his footing (exceptionally rare in the Elven world). His hand caught onto a small branch, little more than a twig, but his grip was soon loosening and he could feel unconsciousness growing on him. Eomer firmly grasped his hand and helped him up into the cave.

"It's so cold," the half-conscious Elf groaned.

"Aragorn, get down here quickly," Eomer hollered, echoing through the cave. Legolas was about to protest, saying that Aragorn could take his precious time, but his throat felt too heavy. He was coughing hard.

"Swallow this. I found it while I was waiting." Aragorn commanded, lightly landing a few feet away from the Elf. Legolas obeyed, removing a bloodied hand from his mouth. "Don't speak," Aragorn instructed. He removed the Elf's shirt, knowing that, though it kept him warm, its heaviness would weigh down his lungs. He shivered from the sudden chill and the two men moved him closer to the warmth of the fire.

"Mithrandir, thach. Trin Moria, gurth." (Gandalf, no. Through Moria, death.) The Elf murmured while catching his breath. Aragorn reached for his pipe, hoping to keep the Elf awake.

"Wait! Sleep may be best for him. It may bring down his fever," Eomer suggested, humbly remembering that this man was far more experienced in these matters than he.

"Not enough, though. Do you know how serious this is? Feel his skin. It's a fire. He won't last must longer if it remains uncountered. If he falls asleep he cannot fight as well and it may take over."

"I won't let it," Legolas vowed, his voice stronger than it had been in hours. "I won't be mastered, awake or asleep. Go ahead and smoke, Aragorn." Legolas sat up and Aragorn saw for the first time how swollen the Elf's throat was. He softened from his bad mood.

"You realize I don't enjoy this at all, mellon nin."

"This just makes up for all the illnesses you got when you were a child just because you were human," Legolas whispered, almost laughing. "I'd take the bees over this anytime." Aragorn smiled at the memory. When they were both much younger, they had brought a supposedly abandoned bee's nest from Mirkwood to frighten Erestor, but Legolas had discovered that Estel had a strange definition of abandoned. The bees had been in hibernation for the winter and had begun to wake up as they entered the warmer climate of Imladris. They weren't exactly pleased with their captors, to say the least. Both the Elf and the human had been in considerable pain for quite a while afterwards. The prank had worked, though, for old Erestor had been scared beyond compare. Save perhaps the fear of Frodo at the sight of a Nazgul, Aragorn thought. Oh, Frodo! Would he ever see him again? Would the quest be completed or would Middle Earth fall into darkness? Whatever the outcome, it had been thrust out of his hands.

"That smoke is getting awfully thick, Aragorn," Legolas interrupted the memory. The ranger had thought for an instant that the Elf's sneezing was just part of the memory. He had been so engrossed in his nostalgic thoughts that his puffing on the pipe had become quite vigorous, as had Legolas' reaction. His skin was burning, red, and irritated.

"Do you hear that?" the Elf asked.

"You are hallucinating, my friend. There is nothing to hear besides the wind," Eomer replied. Legolas stood, shakily, and, much to the dismay of his friends, started down the rest of the cliff toward what he heard.

"We should follow him." Eomer said. "He will be needing the pipe if he overdoes it. Where is he going?" he asked as he followed the Elf, who had already disappeared into the night.

"I don't know," answered his colleague. They reached the ground and Aragorn led in the direction he supposed Legolas had gone. They found the Elf sitting beside a young girl of about five years. As soon as the scent of the medical smoke reached him, he keeled over, gasping for breath. The girl, supposing they were there to harm her newfound friend, took action immediately.

"Get away from him!" she cried, thrusting a large branch at them.

"These are my friends," Legolas yelled over the girl's screams. He rushed over to remove the fiend from Aragorn, but the smoke was too much and he collapsed to the ground.

"Let's get him to the village," Eomer suggested, gesturing toward yonder lights.

"No, bad men in the village," the girl protested. Eomer understood immediately. The men of Dunland had overtaken it. Silently cursing them, he lifted Legolas into his arms, surprised at how light the Elf was.

"I can get horses," the girl volunteered. Aragorn nodded and she was off.

"Legolas, hear me. You must stay conscious," Aragorn called. "Do you remember the winter that blizzard came to Mirkwood? Your father was furious when I came visiting and we got lost in the middle of it. That night was so cold. You got the lecture, but I got sick." The Elf didn't seem to hear him. "I'll smoke as hard as I have to, but you are not going to go unconscious."

"He needs rest, Aragorn. His reaction is too strong; He is barely breathing. Let him sleep." Eomer argued. Aragorn stormed off behind a tree. He couldn't let Eomer see how truly afraid he was to lose his best friend, so he disguised his fear in anger. When Legolas was unconscious, the Ranger felt so useless, for there was nothing he could do to aid him. Aragorn returned to his friends' side just as the girl returned with three horses. Eomer helped Legolas up and mounted behind him. Aragorn lifted the child onto her own steed.

"Will I ride alone?" she asked worriedly.

"We are right beside you," Aragorn replied. They set off to return to the camp. When the reached the rock face, Aragorn carried Legolas, for he was accustomed to this sort of terrain. They entered the camp, the fire still burning and the girl looked around in awe.

"Do you live here?" she asked in wonder.

"No, we're just stopping here on our way to Edoras," Eomer told her.

Aragorn busied himself mixing some herbs with athelas and a few apples he had remaining in his pack. Legolas flinched when Aragorn applied it to his irritated skin, though he remained unconscious.

"It's so cold. The snow . . . covering," he muttered.

"I wish I had something dry to cover you with. You would be warmer," the Ranger said, more to himself than the Elf. The girl had fallen asleep and Eomer came and sat beside Aragorn.

"What news?" Faramir asked a scout who had just returned from duty.

"Orcs have camped across the River, Captain Faramir. They should not be able to cross in this darkness." Faramir prevented himself from rolling his eyes at the final statement, for Orcs were perfectly at home in the darkness.

"If our luck holds to its course, the night will soon be over," Boromir said from behind his brother.

"Are the . . . ?" Faramir broke off, unsure what to call the rest of the company when others were present.

"They are asleep in the best beds they have had since we left Lothlorien."

"You entered the Golden Realm!" Faramir whispered in awe. The soldiers about them left for other duties, leaving the brothers alone. "Tell me of it."

"You know I am not a poet, little brother, but it was a beautiful place, though at first I liked it not. It is one of the few realms in this world that still has peace." Just as Boromir said this, a loud shriek pierced the clouds and fell upon Osgiliath like a hurricane. Frodo woke with a start, clutching his shoulder. Sam was fast asleep a few rooms away and the others were sleeping elsewhere. The Ringbearer was all alone, alone with his thoughts. He knew what the Nazgul wanted, what he had and couldn't give them, and what they were willing to do to possess it. Unconsciously, Frodo secured his hand around the ring and went to the window. He stared into the sleek blackness, but try as he might, saw nothing. He heard only the sounds of the Gondorians preparing tor Sauron's servants. Frodo started. A slight sound behind him had reached his ears. Then he felt something upon his shoulder. He turned around in horror to face . . . (A/N _This was where I was originally going to end the chapter. Aren't you glad I'm not?)_

"Boromir!"Frodo cried out in surprise and relief. He hadn't realized how terrified he really had been. If he hadn't known better, he would have embraced the human in a traditional Hobbit gesture of welcome, but this would not have been appreciated by the Gondorian. Boromir gazed out at the city, his sword drawn, his shield prepared, ready for whatever came. Just as he turned from the window, loud footsteps were heard approaching them down the corridor. The human shoved Frodo behind the bed and positioned himself just in front of the door. A half asleep Hobbit commonly known as Sam Gamgee sprang through the door, his sword held threateningly.

"Where's Mr. Frodo?" he demanded, angrily.

"I'm here, Sam," Frodo revealed himself.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Boromir, but I heard something that sounded like a black rider and I came to make sure Mr. Frodo was okay." Boromir smiled.

"What would I do without you, Sam?" Frodo wondered aloud.

"Well, for one thing, you'd be less one cook," Sam commented.

"You have a good heart and a hand for food," Boromir added. "That's not common around Orcs." Then, recalling the situation, he silenced them. Faramir silently entered the room, terrifying the Ringbearer when he spoke, for he had not seen him.

"The city is well secured, so I came here. I have a few questions concerning your quest. I think I should have a few answers."

"We cannot speak of its entirety now. The enemy will hear our words and know what is planned for it," Boromir whispered, his tone betraying the secret to his brother's well trained ears.

"The one ring?" Faramir asked in a hushed tone. Boromir nodded once. "So this is the answer to the riddles." He looked inquisitively at his brother. Sam moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, which he had replaced in its sheath, in case either man made a move to seize the ring. Faramir backed a few paces away from Frodo, looking at the Hobbit in awe. "The Halfling! It has come to Gondor." He backed away even further, a frightened look upon his young features.

"Isildur's Bane," Boromir whispered. At that instant they heard the distant shriek of a Nazgul. Frodo shuddered and hoped the monster would get no closer. He had a sudden desire to put the ring on and disappear from the gaze of every eye. Then an arrow came flying through the window past Frodo's head. He felt something around his finger and, horrified, realized it was the ring.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam yelled. Boromir frantically tried to shush him while telling Frodo to take off the ring. Faramir just tried to blend into the wall, not wanting to be seen himself. It was not for cowardice that he did this, but for fear of the ring itself and the power it had over men. The invisible Hobbit himself curled up in a corner, hoping the Nazgul would not see him. His eyes were terrified and his shoulder screamed from the wound of the Lord of the Nazgul. He felt extreme pain rush through him as the wall of the building crashed in about him, and Sauron's deadliest servant entered. A hush filled the room.

"Oh, help us," Sam whispered. Faramir drew his bow from the folds of his cape and set an arrow to the string. Though the shot should have been deadly, the ringwraith continued on its course as if nothing had happened. The wraith dismounted the back of its fell beast and headed straight toward Frodo. This time, though, it would not simply wound the Ringbearer; The Lord of the Nazgul would kill the bearer of the one ring and claim his prize, thus dooming all of Ennorath.

_(A/N This is the real end of the chapter. Don't worry, I promise Frodo will not die yet, or, if he does, the story will not be finished. Please read and review and I will update soon. _

_MornieGalad_


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